


Sirens

by Bvffy



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe, Angst, F/F, F/M, Fluff, Hurt/Comfort
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-08-13
Updated: 2019-08-26
Packaged: 2020-08-23 21:40:27
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,442
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20232184
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Bvffy/pseuds/Bvffy
Summary: Clarke Griffin is a new doctor at Polis General Hospital, on the run from her past, and trying to build a new life for herself in the capital city. Instead, she finds herself being drawn in by the mysterious Lexa Woods, a detective for the Polis City Police Department's major cases squad.Against her better judgement, she starts to believe that she might finally be happy, until Lexa gets caught up in a case that forces Clarke to face her past head on - and ruin any chance she had of a new life.





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> I didn't want to spam tags, but there's also other characters and background relationships that also take place just to build on, and flesh out, the story.
> 
> Trigger warning for rape, abuse and gore (I'm taking some inspiration from Law & Order: SVU, but will try not to be too graphic).

Clarke was barely an hour into her second ever shift at Polis General Hospital but was starting to feel restless. The day had started off relatively quiet and continued to do so ahead of the clock on the wall striking 8 AM.

Normally, she wouldn’t have minded. A bit of peace and quiet in the emergency department of a hospital could be very hard to come by, especially in a big city like Polis. There was always something happening, from heart attack to car crash, but the lack of urgency in the department meant that – at least for now – the people of the capital city were healthy.

As a doctor, that was everything she could hope for; as a person, it left her feeling anxious. Any time the phone would go off, she would jump, expecting it to be a trauma call.

The other doctors and nurses felt it too, she could tell, even if she had only just met them. While they looked calm, joking and gossiping with each other, there was a tension in air. They were all just waiting for those doors to fly open and the chaos begin.

She approached the desk and leaned against it, making sure she positioned herself in such a way that meant she still had a good view of everything that was happening around her. It was an old but useful habit she had developed over the years. It meant she could see past the circle of desks to the doors, while also being able to watch the medical bays on either side of her, mostly empty, besides a few patients that had been there since the start of her shift. 

Now would technically be a good time to perhaps get to know of her new co-workers. Some looked less intimidating than others, and she eventually settled on the least threatening gathering: a petite nurse whispering to the on-call receptionist.

As she approached, their whispering became louder, and she paused at the mention of somebody called Nia.

The nurse had her lips pursed. “They call her Queen Nia on the streets and that it was her gang who attacked the rally last week.”

“Violent lunatics, only after blood,” tutted the older receptionist, “the police better do something about it soon or mark my words, they will be killings next.”

Clarke frowned, but before she could ask what they were talking about, the phone finally rang. She breathed in, then out, willing her mind to calm. She had lives to save.

~~~~~~~

Lexa couldn’t help glancing outside as the faint orange rays from the falling sun caught the windows of the skyscraper on the opposite side of the street, making the whole building look like it had caught on fire.

Throwing her leather jacket over the back of the chair, she flopped unceremoniously down in front of her desk. Her computer whirred softly when she pressed the power button and the screen flickered to life, showing the time had hit 7:00 PM. Just in time for the start of what was no doubt going to be a long shift – the late shift always was.  
She had just typed in her password, leaned as far back in the chair as it would allow while she waited for it to load, when the door to Sergeant Indra’s office banged open and her partner came rushing out, waving her phone frantically in Lexa’s direction.

The chair nearly toppled over, but Lexa didn’t care as she shot to her feet. “Please tell me we have a case. I don’t want to be sat in this chair all night.”

Anya grinned. “Maybe. Got a 999 call a few minutes ago about a domestic disturbance in a hotel, Sarg wants us to assist.”

“Beat cop can’t handle it?” Lexa frowned, but grabbed her jacket and followed Anya to the elevator.

Anya brought up the location on her phone. “It’s high profile,” she explained, showing Lexa the address.

“Shit,” she said.

“My thoughts exactly.” The elevator pinging and sprung open into the police department’s underground garage. “It’s my turn to drive, throw me the keys.”

A few minutes later, they were racing down the street, sirens overhead blaring. At the speed Anya liked to drive, they would arrive at the Conclave Hotel in barely any time at all. Which would be a good thing – after all, the hotel was one of the most expensive places to visit in the city, notorious for its catering of some very high-profile clients.

If this call turned out to be something serious, it might well be up there with some of the biggest cases of her career.

~~~~~~~

The scene was already a mess of blue lights by the time Lexa and Anya got there, the latter rolling down the windows so she could speak to the cop closest to them.

“What are you trying to do?” she demanded. “This might as well be an open invite to every media outlet that has ever existed to come snoop around. Set up a perimeter, for god’s sake.”

The officer hurried off immediately, her partner watching with narrowed eyes. Lexa would have rolled her eyes, but it was far too early in the shift for that yet. Instead, she pointed to an empty spot by a patrol car for Anya to park in. “Come on, I’m sure there’s plenty more for you to be angry about inside.”

Anya huffed in response, but soon enough, they were in the lobby being shown to the penthouse suite on the top floor. The officer with them began to quickly explain what they knew so far – which wasn’t much. Perp had fled, left the victim at the scene.

That didn’t prepare them for the sight that met their eyes, though. Lexa heard Anya swear softly under her breath, before moving further into the room to examine it.

“And she’s alive,” Lexa asked, nodding to the bed. Tied to it was a young woman with no obvious signs of trauma, but her body was limp and there was no way to tell if her chest was rising or falling with the way she had been positioned.

“Ambo’s on its way,” confirmed the cop.

Anya, who had been kneeling by the side of the bed, sighed. “I’ll call forensics, get the dynamic duo down here; you go with the victim.”

Lexa nodded. No, tonight was going to be anything but slow.

~~~~~~~

“What have we got?” Clarke asked the approaching paramedics as they wheeled in the third trauma victim of the last hour. She snapped her gloves into place while indicting to the closest empty bay to begin transferring the patient from the gurney into the hospital’s care.

The paramedics followed her lead, the one closest to her, Jackson, quickly began giving a brief rundown of the situation. “Female, approximately 21 years old, trauma to the head and neck, as well bruising to the ribs. Vitals are stable, but she’s lost at least a pint of blood.”

“Okay, on my mark. One, two, three, lift.” The three slid the patient off the gurney and onto the waiting bed. Clarke didn’t waste any time, moving to the head of the bed so she could shine a light into the woman’s eyes – she barely noticed the paramedics leaving, or the nurse who came up to help.

It wasn’t until she turned away to call for an x-ray that she spotted the stern-faced woman standing just off to the side, watching the whole situation unfold. She didn’t seem like a concerned family member. “I’m sorry, is there something I can help you with? You really shouldn’t be here if you have no connection with the patient.”

“I need a rape kit,” said mystery woman simply, like it was meant to explain everything. It didn’t and when Clarke didn’t say anything straight away, she added, “for the victim.”

“I’ll arrange for one, detective,” replied the assisting nurse, making for the desk. The detective nodded, even thanking them by name, yet didn’t let her attention on Clarke waver.

She was just beginning to feel uncomfortable when mystery woman’s eyes widened slightly and broke their stare-off. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to be so abrupt, I just assumed you knew who I was.”

Clarke felt herself relax a little bit at the softer tone. “I’m new here,” she explained, taking off her glove to shake the other woman’s hand. It was rough with calluses, but surprisingly gentle.

“Ah, that explains why I don’t recognise you. I’m detective Lexa Woods.” She shifted her blouse to reveal the badge on her belt.

“Dr. Griffin,” Clarke supplied after a moment of awkward silence where the detective looked at her expectantly. Her cheeks warmed and she found herself looking anywhere but Lexa’s face.

Thankfully, she was saved by the return of the nurse, whose presence also reminded her of the patient she was supposed to be looking after. She nearly rolled her eyes at her own idiocy, using the interruption to regain her composure. “Is there anything else we can help you with detective?”

“Let me know when she wakes, I’ll need to question her.” The tone she used had once again changed, colder and more business-like, similar to the tone she had used when ordering for a rape kit. It was a jarring comparison, but Clarke had experienced it at her old hospital back in Arkadia when dealing with police.

“I’ll ask reception to call you,” she said.

The detective smiled. “Thanks. I guess I’ll see you around, Dr. Griffin?”

“I guess so.”

By the time Clarke’s shift had ended, the victim was still too out of it for questioning, so Clarke left a message for the doctor taking over, before leaving. She didn’t feel like waiting around after already doing a busy 24 hour shift just to notify the detective.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Longer chapter, hope you enjoy.

Living in Polis was expensive enough, it being the capital and all, without having to worry about the cost of housing. Which is why Clarke was forever grateful to have Octavia Blake in her life.

She spent a second fumbling with her key, hands numb from the biting early morning wind, before hurriedly making her way into the apartment they shared. “I’m home,” she called down the hall, shrugging off her coat and nearly tripping over her own shoes as she took them off.

“In the kitchen!” her best friend called back. She found Octavia half-asleep against the island, absent-mindedly stirring a cup of coffee.

She winced against the bright colours, tired eyes refusing to adjust to the white and mint theme Octavia used for the room. It was almost too much effort to lift her body up onto the stool and she found herself staring longing at the coffee. “You couldn’t have made me one?” she groaned.

Octavia huffed. “I barely thought to make my own. Long shift?”

“Not really, just busy.” Rolling her neck until it gave a satisfying click, she stretched out her tired legs, trying not to think about how sore they were going to be in a couple of hours from all the time she had spent standing up.

From where she was sat, she could just about reach far enough to turn on the coffee machine, but if she wanted milk, she’d have to get up. A few minutes of groaning later, Clarke sat back down with her own steaming latte, breathing in the addicting aroma of liquid energy.

“Got to know any of your co-workers yet?” Octavia asked, having now had her coffee and was awake enough to hold a conversation. One that Clarke knew was a way for her best friend to measure how she was coping without actually bringing it up. It was a sly move, but she knew Octavia too well to fall for it. 

Besides, that wasn’t something she wanted to get into right now, especially when she just wanted to shower and go to sleep. “There hasn’t been much time,” she lied, but just to keep Octavia from bugging her about it, she added, “but I met a detective.”

The other woman perked up immediately. “Was he hot?”

Clarke snorted, nearly spraying coffee all over the portfolio of new dress designs Octavia had left on the counter. Give to her best friend to get her priorities straight. “_She_ was, I suppose.”

“Oh.” Octavia smirked, eyebrows raised. “Interesting.”

Clarke recognised that glint in her best friend’s eyes. It came right before she decided to play matchmaker. “Oh no, don’t even think about it.”

“Please. Just their name. I promise I won’t do anything.”

Clarke sighed. “I’m not looking for a relationship right now. Besides, she’s hot, but I don’t know her at all.”

She grabbed her mug and headed for her room, but she didn’t miss Octavia’s final comment. “You need to move on, Clarke.”

She tried not to think about how right those words were, getting into bed and closing her eyes to dreams of a past life that were still so vivid. 

~~~~~~~

“So,” said Lexa, to break the silence in the car, “Raven, huh?”

Anya suddenly swerved to left, leaving Lexa clinging to the seat for dear life. She was beginning to think she was more likely to arrive at the hospital in an ambulance than a police car with the way her partner was attacking the pedals like she had a personal vendetta against them.

But the car straightened back up and Anya relaxed a little. “What about her?” she asked.

“You’re wearing her perfume.” Lexa was starting to wish for the silence back because Anya’s expression hardened just slightly in silent warning, but there was no going back now. She bit the bullet and finally asked the question that had been on her mind all week. “You’re sleeping with her?”

They were parking in the hospital parking lot before Anya gave her answer. With a shrug, she said, “It’s nothing serious.” Then got out of the car and slammed the door, effectively ending the conversation.

“Note to self: don’t ask Anya about her love life, even if she’s sleeping with your best friend,” Lexa muttered to the bobble head alien on the dashboard, before getting out and following her partner inside. There would be time to ask Raven about it later; right now, there was a case to focus on.

She caught up with Anya at the reception desk, just as she was inquiring about their patient. The nurse frowned down at her files. “Does she have a name?”

“No, but Dr. Griffin treated her,” supplied Lexa. She looked around but couldn’t see the new doctor anywhere. Maybe she was in one of the treatment rooms, or her shift had ended already.

“Here we go,” said the nurse, pulling up the file at last. “Bay 6, right over there.”

After thanking the nurse, they made there way around the other side the desk, dodging an oncoming doctor racing to a different bay. Anya stuffed her hands in the pockets of her coat, scrunching her nose as she watched on. “I hate hospitals.”

Even Lexa had to admit, the acrid stench of disinfectant coming from a nearby cleaning station was making her stomach turn, but she was trying not to think about it. Instead, she glanced around one last time, searching for blonde hair and blue eyes, but there was nobody here that looked like the woman Lexa had met last night.

Eventually, she gave up. Dr. Griffin’s shift must have ended. Turning back to Anya, she asked, “Is there anything you don’t hate?”

“Shooting things,” Anya replied nonchalantly, sliding open the door to bay 6 and stepping inside.

“Comforting,” muttered Lexa, following her partner into the room, where the young woman was lying on the bed, thankfully looking much healthier than when they had first found her. “Hi, my name’s Lexa and this is my partner, Anya.”

“We were wondering if we could ask you about what happened?” continued Anya gently. They had interviewed plenty of victim’s together, but Lexa still found herself being taken aback by how soft-tempered her partner could be. Almost pleasant.

She woman glanced between them hesitantly, her eyes flashing, like she was animal trapped in a corner. Bringing the blankets up to her chin, she bawled her hands into fists, pressing them firmly against her throat.

“It’s okay,” said Lexa quickly. “You’re not in trouble. We’re here to help, I promise.”

Slowly, the victim lowered the blankets. Her hands settling in her lap, despite her eyes still flying between the two detectives and the door. Lexa caught her partner’s eye, finding Anya’s brimming with barely contained rage.

They both knew what the other was thinking: catch the bastard that made this vulnerable woman so scared.

Lexa turned back to the bed, careful not to make any sudden movements as she approached the victim’s side. “What’s your name?” she asked. It was better to start there, since Monty had found no ID at the scene.

“Harper,” whispered the woman.

Anya smiled. “It’s nice to meet you, Harper. Now I know you don’t want to talk about it, but is there anything you can remember about last night?”

Harper’s hands clenched around the sheets again, so tight her knuckles were white, and she shook her head. “I took a train to Polis and there was this charming man at the station exit. He offered to buy me food and lead me away from the crowd. The next thing I remember is being tied to that bed and–,” she broke off with a sob, the sound cracked and broken as it filled the room.

“You were really brave,” reassured Lexa, softly placing a hand on Harper’s shoulder. The woman tensed but didn’t flinch away. “The hospital is going to contact any relatives you have, okay?”

Harper nodded, despite glassy eyes showing she had barely registered a word Lexa had said.

“Let’s go,” said Anya, “We’re not going to get anything else from her right now.”

Lexa knew she was right and sighed. They were no closer to identifying the attacker, while their victim was alone in an unfamiliar place, surrounding by complete strangers she was meant to trust.

“We’re going to find who did this,” she vowed. Beside her, Anya, scowl firmly in place, nodded.

~~~~~~~

Sometimes, Clarke could fall asleep and dream of nothing at all. Other times, it was like she couldn’t escape them. No matter how hard she tried to tell herself that it was over, they were there – tugging at the back of her mind, refusing to be left behind.

She sat up in bed, letting a cold breeze coming through her window dance along her back and ease her racing thoughts. Even if the dream had felt real, it wasn’t. She knew that, but her hand still shook as she dragged it through her hair, allowing herself just five seconds of self-pity.

Then she took a deep breath and forced herself out of the cocoon of safe blankets and warmth. Her shift had only finished a few hours ago, but a nap was all she allowed herself, knowing that if she slept longer, she would never get any rest tonight and be exhausted for the start of her next shift tomorrow morning.

Besides, she had promised Octavia that she would meet her at a nearby café for a lunch date, along with her brother. Her exact words were, “Please, Clarke! Bell has the day off and you’re not working, so it’s perfect. You need to start getting your life back.”

And Clarke couldn’t bring herself to say no, so here she was, freshly showered and struggling to pick an outfit. Eventually, knowing she was already running late, she grabbed her grey turtleneck and a pair of blue jeans and hurried out the door.

She nearly ran into a young girl on the sidewalk wearing a bright red coat in her haste, rushing out an apology as she kept walking. It was rude, but Octavia was scary when things weren’t going exactly how she planned them to.

The café turned out to be quaint little thing on the end of a busy street. If Clarke hadn’t been deliberately searching for it, she probably would have walked past it without giving it a second thought. But she recognised what it signified immediately. Octavia had picked the perfect café for a romantic date.

There were little flowers painted on the door, already peeling in the winter weather and a sign with one of those sickening inspirational quotes from the internet. Clarke sighed, kicking herself for not realising Octavia’s plan sooner. Still, she was cold and hungry, walking back home didn’t seem particularly appealing, so she made up her mind and stepped inside.

She found her best friend sat at a table in the corner, right by a rustic style fireplace. Both of the empty chairs had been pushed close together so that all three of them could fit round the table, but there was no sign of Bellamy yet.

Octavia’s face lit up when saw Clarke. “Hey! Grab a seat, I figured you’d be tired, so I already ordered coffee.”

“Thanks,” she said, throwing her coat over the back of one chair, while subtly trying to push the other further away. “Is Bellamy running late?”

“He better not be, otherwise I’ll have to– oh, there is he is.” She waved at her older brother, getting up to give him a hug.

“Hey O,” he greeted cheerfully, freckled face breaking out into a comfortable smile. Clarke shifted on her feet, unsure whether to sit down or not, but then Bellamy turned to her, grabbing her in a near suffocating bear hug.

“It’s nice to see you too, Bell,” she said, slightly muffled against his shoulder. The last time she had seen him was at his graduation and he’d certainly seemed to have grown into himself. It probably had everything to do with his job as a firefighter.

They sat down just in time for three steaming cups of coffee topped with whipped cream to arrive. Clarke took it immediately, taking a sip. She had a feeling she was going to need all the caffeine she could get.

“So,” said Bellamy, “how have you been, Clarke? Word on the street is that you’re a doctor now, just like your mum.”

Clarke laughed. “She’s a world-class surgeon and I handle drunk teenagers on a Friday night.”

Octavia nudged her under the table, raising a perfectly shaped eyebrow in reproach. But Bellamy shrugged it off, like he often used to back in high school. “Oh, come on, you can’t fool me. I’m sure you’ve already seen plenty of action.”

Opening her mouth to answer, she was interrupted by Octavia, who had taken the opportunity to jump into the conversation before it went downhill further. “Just last night, she had to treat someone who was part of a police investigation, right Clarke?”

“I’m not at liberty to discuss my patients,” Clarke replied monotonously. It wasn’t the first time she had been asked about her patients, but it was true. Whatever that victim had been through, it was private and sensitive – not something to be brought up in casual conversation at lunch.

Octavia nudged her again, harder this time, and indicated to the restroom in the corner. Scowling, Clarke followed her, leaving a confused Bellamy to place their lunch orders.  
As soon as they were out of earshot, her best friend whipped around. “You could at least try to be nice to him!”

Clarke crossed her arms firmly over her chest, letting her frustration rise to match Octavia’s. She snapped, “Stop trying to set me up with people, especially your brother. He’s been giving me side-glances ever since he sat down!”

Stamping her foot on the floor, Octavia sighed up to the ceiling. “I’m trying to help you.”

“I don’t need your help.” She took a step closer to the door, ready to make her exit. Coming here had been a bad idea. “What I need is space.”

Octavia closed the gap between them, reaching out for her hands and holding on. “Okay, I’ll stop pushing, but promise me you’ll try. The best way to move on is to find someone new. Somebody who will treat you right, love you unconditionally, because you deserve to be happy.”

Sea green eyes pleaded with her own, trying to reach a part of Clarke that she had long since shut away: her hope. And she relented. “I promise.”

The rest of the lunch was more pleasant. The place seemed brighter; the quote on the door wasn’t sickening to look at, even if it was still the cheesiest thing Clarke had ever read. For the first time in so long, she didn’t feel the ghost of Finn Collins looming over her.

~~~~~~~

Lexa’s shift had technically finished just over five hours ago, but the case came first. Always.

The victim had agreed to work with a sketch artist late in the afternoon, but that wouldn’t be ready until the morning. In the meantime, they had gone to the train station to see if they could pick up any CCTV of the man Harper described.

That had also turned up nothing. The only thing the cameras had caught was the back of a man’s head, blurry and barely identifiable. It could be any dark-haired man in the city, which hardly narrowed down their list of potential suspects.

Not that they had many in the first place. Harper had no known enemies, nor had she ever been to Polis before, so any ideas they had about the abductor were purely speculation. They didn’t even know if that had been the man who had raped Harper in the first place.

Leaning back in her chair, Lexa closed her eyes. The words on the forensics report were just a mix of letters on a page that her tired brain refused to keep processing. Monty and Jasper had found nothing of use anyway, reading it wouldn’t change that, or make some piece of evidence magically appear.

Distantly, Anya’s desk phone started ringing, but Lexa knew it just going to be the same as all the other leads they had tried chasing: a dead end. Everything they thought they had was getting them nowhere. If they didn’t find something new soon, there would be nothing else for them to go on and the case would go cold.

Harper’s rapist would get away with it. She clenched her teeth, trying not to think about the tears that had rolled down their victim’s cheeks as she relived her nightmare. They would have to tell her they had nothing, and Lexa wasn’t prepared to do that just yet.

“We have to go, right now,” said Anya, the urgency in her tone pulling Lexa from her stupor and she opened her eyes, just as her partner put down the phone and grabbing her coat.

She sat up quickly, ignoring the wave of dizziness the motion caused. Right now, sleep and food could wait. “What’s wrong?”

Anya looked pale. “There’s been a second assault. A child this time.”

~~~~~~~

It was still dark outside, the entrance to Polis General Hospital illuminated only by harsh white lighting and the neon of the sign overhead that read ‘EMERGENCY DEPARTMENT’.

There was a police car parked outside with two officers leaning on the bonnet, drinking from Styrofoam cups and talking anxiously. As Clarke walked past, their voices became softer, barely legible but urgent all the same. Something bad had happened.

She hurried inside, intent on locking her belongings away as quickly as she could, so that she could be out and helping. It was times like these that she liked to arrive early for her shift, just so that change over wasn’t understaffed, especially when it was likely to be hectic.

Passing the small waiting area, something made her pause. On looking around again, she spotted somebody sat on one of the plastic chairs, head in hands. She could have sworn she recognised the brown hair and leather jacket.

“Detective Woods?” she called across the room, relieved when the person who looked up was indeed the detective.

As she approached, she noticed how pale the other woman’s complexion was. There were dark circles lining bloodshot eyes and she was definitely wearing the same clothes Clarke had seen her in almost 36 hours ago.

“Dr Griffin,” greeted Detective Woods, managing a small smile that looked more like a grimace.

Clarke’s concern was only growing. “When did you last sleep?” she asked.

“It’s hard to get decent sleep when you’re on an active case.” Not an answer, so Clarke assumed she hadn’t, but it was clear she wasn’t about to get anywhere with this line of questioning – she needed to change tact.

She looked around, spotting another officer by a closed off bay. “Is this about the victim?”

The detective sighed, rubbing a hand over her face. “There’s been another assault. A twelve-year-old girl this time, but we think they’re connected.”

“Oh.” She didn’t know what else to say. It was horrible to even consider the idea that somebody would do that to a child. She turned back to look at the bay, feeling slightly sick.

Grabbing the edge of the seat, the detective pushed herself up onto her feat. She swayed slightly on the spot, and Clarke reflexively grabbed her arm in alarm, forcing her to sit back down on the chair in case she collapsed.

The detective scowled. “I’m fine.”

“Really?” scoffed Clarke, “because you look like you’re about to faint.”

The detective closed her eyes again, leaning back in the chair. For a moment, Clarke was struck by how young the detective must be – no older than Clarke herself was. She glanced around, finding that it was mostly quiet.

She turned back to the detective, Octavia’s words ringing in her mind: _You need to move on, Clarke_. Maybe she could start here. “Let me drive you home,” she said, before she could convince herself it was a bad idea. The detective looked set to argue, but Clarke interrupted. “You’re not going to help anyone like this. You need to eat, shower and sleep.”

“Is that your polite way of telling me I look like crap?”

Clarke’s cheeks warmed as she quickly started to backtrack. “No, no, that’s not what I meant at all. You’re actually quite pretty, I just meant–,” she stopped when she heard the detective laughing.

“I guess I can’t argue with that.” Her green eyes seemed to sparkle, even in the poor lighting.

They headed out to Clarke’s car and she caught a glimpse of her flushed face in the window, wincing internally. She had just made a complete fool of herself, but the detective didn’t seem put off by it at all. In fact, she was smiling to herself.

“Where to, detective?” she asked, once they were both inside.

“Call me Lexa, detective seems too formal now that you’ve invited me into your car,” she said with a smirk, then gave Clarke her address. Thankfully, it wasn’t too far away.

They didn’t speak much. Lexa spent most of the drive with her eyes closed, humming softly to the music Clarke had playing in the background to fill the silence. Even sleep deprived, the other woman looked good – lean, despite how clearly strong she was, but also built with soft curves.

Forcing her eyes back on the road, Clarke cursed the influence Octavia was having on her. If she had any shred of dignity left, she wouldn’t still be trying to subtly glance over at the passenger’s side like some kind of horny teenager with a crush.

When they pulled up outside an old block of brick flats, Lexa opened her eyes and turned to Clarke, who tried to make it seem like she hadn’t spent most of the drive staring at her. “Thanks for the ride, Dr. Griffin.”

“Clarke,” she offered. The other woman smiled softly, Clarke’s stomach fluttering in response.

“Well then, Clarke, I’ll be seeing you around.” She got out the car, waving from her porch.

Clarke watched until the door closed, finding herself hoping she would see Lexa sooner rather than later.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Going to start adding some other perspectives from now on so I can spend some time with the other characters.


	3. Chapter 3

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> It's here; it's queer
> 
> It's also not proof read because I'm lazy, you've been warned

Raven Reyes stared down at the formula she had written swearing that it had made sense in her head a minute ago. It was just that on paper, something wasn’t quite right, like she had all the right components but not in the right places.

There was a knock on her door before she could delve any further into equation madness. Glancing at the clock in her office, she frowned. Who could possibly be knocking on her door at 7:30 in the morning? The only insomniac she knew was herself.

Maybe it was the postman claiming that the letterbox was too small to fit anything in it, even though it was perfectly fine – Raven had measured it herself to check. If it was him, she knew exactly where she was going to tell him to stuff his mail.

She paused at the mirror in the hall, flattening her bedhead and smoothing out her yummy sushi pyjamas. After all, if she was about to roast the postman to an inch of his life, she might as well look damn fine doing it. Or as damn fine as you could get while wearing bunny sleepers.

Speech prepared, she swung open the door with her finger already pointed and stopped. It was definitely not the postman stood in her doorway. “Anya?” she asked in bewilderment.

The other woman was eyeing up her pointed finger like it was a loaded weapon. “Uh, don’t shoot?”

Snapping out of her surprise, she quickly lowered her hand back down to her side. This was not what she had prepared for. Anya looked like her head hadn’t hit a pillow in days, but that wasn’t what caught Raven’s attention. Her eyes, usually so brightly lit, were dulled down; almost vacant in an unsettling kind of way. There was no fire to her at all.

“What are you doing here?” she finally managed to say.

Anya bit her lip, glancing around at the empty street. “How long before you have work?”

“I have the day off, why–,”

She was cut short by Anya suddenly surging forward, capturing her lips in a rough kiss. They both stumbling backwards, Raven’s back hitting the doorframe leading to her office, grasping at it blindly so she didn’t fall, as Anya used her foot to kick the front door shut. She pulled away, but not so far that Raven couldn’t feel warm breath against her lips.

“Good,” muttered Anya against her ear, making her shudder involuntarily. “Bedroom?”

Raven let Anya lead her back upstairs in what had now become a familiar routine. She knew how this would work; knew Anya was using her as a distraction, but she didn’t mind. At the end of the day, they both got the satisfaction they were craving: an understanding through physical intimacy that only Anya provided her.

So she let Anya push her down onto the bed and capture her lips once again.

~~~~~~~

The elevator pinging, doors sliding open as Anya walked in. She must have followed Lexa’s lead and gotten some sleep because she looked brighter than when they’d been at the hospital only a few hours earlier. Still, Lexa scowled all the while her partner sat down and got settled.

“I tried calling you,” she said.

“Sorry, I was a little tied up.” Anya turned and paused, taking in the case board that Lexa had spent the last hour setting up. “Damn, you’ve been busy."

Lexa nodded, pining up a picture of their latest victim. “This is Charlotte. She ran away from home, ended up here. Guess what happened next?”

“She met our mystery guy?”

“Exactly.” Lexa took the blurry photo from her desk and pinned it up just below the faces of their two victims. “He offered to buy her food and then there’s a whole load of blank. But get this, Charlotte remembers waking up in a warehouse before being drugged again and taken to the location she was found.”

Anya sat up, eyes going wide in realisation. “Son of a bitch, we’re not dealing with a serial rapist. This is a fully functioning operation.”

“Both girls were vulnerable and new to the city,” continued Lexa, “whoever is taking them is smart, knows nobody will be looking for them here.”

“But Charlotte was wearing a bright red coat, there’s no way she wasn’t seen.” Anya swivelled back around to load up her computer. “I’ll check witness statements, maybe ask around, see if anyone spotted a girl in a red coat around the time she was kidnapped.”

Lexa picked up her a report on the Conclave Hotel, finally feeling like they were getting somewhere at last. Then she frowned. “Hey, the name of the hotel Charlotte was found in is called the Ark, right?”

“Yeah, why?”

“Because I think I just found our connection.” She held up the report. “Both the Conclave where Harper was found and the Ark where Charlotte was found are owned by none other than our favourite dirty businessman Charles Pike.”

Anya stood up, coming over the read the report. “There’s no way that’s a coincidence, not with Pike’s known associates. I’ll let Indra know, she’s been trying to get him for years.”

~~~~~~~

“Clarke, thank God, you’re just the person I needed.”

Slowly putting down her work bag, Clarke looked around Octavia’s bedroom. “Did I miss a bomb going off in here?”

“I can’t find the right outfit,” said Octavia by way of explanation, throwing the silk green dress she had been holding against herself towards the bed, which was already covered in a layer of skirts, dresses and blouses for all occasions.

Clarke stepped over a pair of haphazardly discarded high heels to join Octavia by the closest. “Right outfit for what exactly?”

Octavia sighed. “This party happening tonight. I’ve been invited to attend with a plus one, but it’s going to be full of the most influential people in Polis, so I can’t mess up an opportunity like this.”

“Don’t overthink it.” She reached past a sleek black dress and pulled out a smaller flowery one. “This is cute.”

Octavia practically recoiled from it. “Absolutely not, you have terrible taste.”

“Hey!”

“Oh, but that reminds me. Your dress is on your bed, I picked one out earlier.”

Clarke froze, watching as Octavia pulled out the sleek black dress and level it against the mirror. Shaking her head, she tossed it behind her with the rest of the discarded items, before turning away to check in one of her many draws.

When Clarke continued to stare, she raised her eyebrows expectantly.

“I’m not going,” she blurted out.

“Lincoln’s on shift with Bellamy and I don’t want to go alone,” argued Octavia, completely unfazed. She’d probably expected this reaction and already planned out how she was going to convince her otherwise. “Besides, there’s free booze.”

And it was working. “The posh booze?”

Octavia laughed. “Of course. So I’ll take that as a yes then?”

“Fine,” sighed Clarke, flopping down on the bed, “but only for a few hours and I expect fancy champagne served on trays.”

~~~~~~~

Leaning against the wall in Sergeant Indra’s office, Lexa strained to hear the conversation happening on the other side of the line. She could only catch bits off it, not enough to know what they were talking about, and Indra’s poker face remained firmly in place.

She glanced at Anya, who had taken to pacing from the desk to the door as she waited.

“Yes, I understand, thank you,” said Indra at last, placing down the phone and looking up at them stony faced.

Anya stopped her pacing, leaning forward eagerly. “So?”

Indra nodded. “We have the go ahead.”

Lexa breathed out, finally relaxing against the wall. This might be the breakthrough they had been looking for. Now that the higher ups had agreed to the undercover operation, it was just a case of doing it by the books and not messing up.

Charles Pike was a powerful man. One wrong move and it could be all over.

“Who’s going in?” asked Anya.

Without a moment of hesitation, she stepped forward. “Me.”

“Are you sure?” Indra’s face gave nothing away, but her tone was hard. They both knew how dangerous this could be, but also knew they had no other alternative.

She held her sergeant’s stare. “Anya couldn’t look lost and vulnerable if she tried, she's not delicate enough for that.”

“I can be delicate!” gasped Anya, putting a hand over her heart in mock offence.

Indra rounded her desk so she could examine Lexa, humming as she thought the plan through once more. Eventually, she looked at Anya. “It’s a black-tie event, she’s going to need a dress that can hide a listening device.”

“On it,” said Anya, leaving the room, but not without first giving Lexa a reassuring nod.

They were silent for a moment, then Lexa cleared her throat. “I guess that means I won’t get away with sneaking a glass of champagne.”

The faintest hint of a smile tugged at her sergeant’s lips. “When this is over, we can celebrate with champagne. For now, we have to catch this bastard.”

~~~~~~~

They were barely through the door, but Clarke was already feeling out of place. The room they were in was a huge ballroom, lit by chandeliers made of glass hanging down from the ceiling. It made her feel like she was a princess at a ball, except she had no prince charming to dance the night away with.

Instead, she spotted her only true love in the corner of the room: a buffet table topped with a plate full of brightly coloured macaroons and bottles of sparkling wine.

Beside her, in suit jacket and trousers, Octavia rolled her eyes. “You’re like a dog with a bone.”

Clarke scoffed. “The first thing you looked at was the chocolate foundation.”

“That’s not the point.”

They walked further into the room, stopping by a large white pillar to take everything in. Octavia started ringing her hands nervously, increasing in intensity when she spotted a particularly well-known individual. That is until she unexpectantly grabbed Clarke’s arm, shaking it urgently. “Look, there’s Charles Pike. He owns, like, half of Polis.”

Clarke followed her gaze to a bulky looking man in a black suite, who looked more like an over-sized playground bully than a successful business man. Regardless, whatever he was saying had the group of people around him completely enraptured.

She supposed there were plenty of people in here just the same, able to charm money from a beggar or win over even the most untrustworthy of people. It was a little intimidating. The fact that Octavia was nervous only made her feel more on edge.

“What do you plan to get out of this?” she asked. Whatever went down, she was here to watch her best friend’s back.

Octavia shrugged, still blatantly staring. “The plan was to make connections, maybe show off some of my designs.”

That meant it was going to be a long night of making nice and socialising with people she didn’t have much interest for. She sighed. “When do you think it’s socially acceptable to get food?”

~~~~~~~

The surveillance van was parked just around the corner to the building the party was being hosted in. From the monitors they had set up, Lexa had a clear view of the front entrance. Despite the party having started nearly half an hour ago, people were still arriving, so she could slip in relatively unnoticed.

“And you’re all set,” said Monty, patting her back where he’d just placed the listening device, before handing Lexa her ear piece.

Anya put a hand on her shoulder. “Ready?”

She nodded, despite the churning in her stomach. Tonight may end up being their best opportunity at this and she didn’t want to screw it up. 

Almost as if she could read Lexa’s mind, Anya gave her shoulder a reassuring squeeze. Then she asked, “Who are you?”

“Libby Martin, 21, left home to pursue a career in modelling,” Lexa recited, while fixing her ear piece, having already gone over all this information several times in the past few hours. “I’m at the party to market myself.”

“See? You’ve got this,” encouraged Anya.

“I’ve got this,” Lexa repeated. She opened the door and stepped out into the cold winter night, hearing it slam shut behind her.

She hurried down the path as wind whipped at her hair. If she didn’t make it inside soon, all the hours spent painstakingly washing and styling it would go to waste. Some model she would turn out to be, turning up at high-profile party looking like she had just lost a fight with a street cat.

Once up the steps, she slipped past the staff with carefully practiced ease and found herself in a large ballroom.

It was easy enough to spot Charles Pike standing off to one side chatting up a local politician, who looked about ready to sell his soul over to the man. Nothing new there – Pike could probably sell a shoemaker their own shoes back for twice the price.

His ability to manipulate any situation, essentially control the narrative, was why he was so hard to convict. It also made him very, very dangerous. A man who needed no physical weapon to cause harm.

Rolling her shoulders, she took a deep breathe, allowing herself to relax into the role. A second later, giddy smile plastered on her face, she swaggered into the crowd.

~~~~~~~

Clarke had been standing in the same spot for ten minutes listening to Octavia talk about the intricacies of fashion design, and wishing she was at home in bed. Preferably in pyjamas, wrapped in blankets, while reading a book.

Shifting on her aching feet, she debated whether anyone would notice if she kicked off her high heels. These people were only really paying attention to Octavia and they were starting to really pinch at her toes, making this whole ordeal even more unbearable.

She glanced longingly at the door, wishing that making a run for it wouldn’t mean leaving behind her best friend after promising to be here with her. Maybe she could make up some excuse about not feeling well.

About to turn back to Octavia, she had to do a double take when, at the edges of her vision, she thought she spotted brunette hair that was definitely familiar to her now. Having spent a shameless amount of time thinking about her, she was hard to miss.

Her jaw dropped as she stared at the woman who was most definitely Lexa Woods easily slipping past groups of businessman in a flowing black dress that reached her ankles.

Behind her, Octavia whistled softly in appreciation. “Damn, that’s one fine dress.”

If Clarke hadn’t been too busy admiring how beautiful Lexa was, she might have noticed that, but she was instead caught up in the sea green of her eyes as they swept the room. How the small amount of makeup she was wearing seemed to make them shine all the more.

“You’re drooling,” said Octavia helpfully.

She snapped her mouth shut, but still couldn’t force herself to look away. Octavia was probably grinning like a kid in a candy store who had just been told they could buy whatever they wanted, so she really didn’t need to look her way.

Lexa had just finally come to a halt beside the buffet table when Clarke made up her mind. “I’ll be right back,” she said to Octavia, quickly hurrying over before the other woman could even reply.

After having ducked past an over-enthusiastic drunken politician, she made it over to where the detective was stood. As she approached, Lexa’s eyes finally met her own, widening just slightly.

Then she suddenly reached over, grabbing Clarke’s arm. “Oh my gosh, hi! Isn’t this party great?”

Her tone had completely changed from the soft intonations Clarke had grown to like hearing during the car ride. Instead, it was jarring, too high-pitched and bubbly to possibly be the same person Clarke had grown fond of in the short time they’d known each other. She frowned. “Lex–,”

Before she could finish her question, Lexa cut her off sharply. “My name’s Libby. What’s yours?”

Clarke was starting to feel a little alarmed, but Lexa’s grip on her arm tightened just slightly, while her eyes seemed to be pleaded with her. “Clarke,” she said slowly and relief flooded Lexa’s face, but was gone a second later.

“Nice to meet you, Clarke.” She leaned in. “Listen, would you mind accompanying me to the restroom, I’m not comfortable going alone.”

Clarke had barely managed a nod by the time Lexa had started pulling her in the direction of the ladies’ toilets. Nobody was watching them, but Clarke was starting to feel like Lexa really didn’t want to be caught doing whatever it was that had brought her here tonight.

When they were safely inside, Lexa checked every stall to make sure it was empty, then starting speaking. “Sorry Clarke, I didn’t mean to freak you out. Are you okay?”

She reached for Clarke’s arm again, touching softly this time, frowning when she saw an already fading red mark where she had grabbed hair.

Grabbing Lexa’s hand, she held it firmly, refusing to let herself think about meaning of the action or why she had done it in the first place. “I’m fine,” she said insisted. “What’s going on?”

“I’m undercover,” Lexa explained, glancing around the room again as if she was afraid the walls might be listening in. Chills ran down the length of Clarke’s spine, even as she forced herself not to check the room for cameras that weren’t there.

“Is this about the two girls?” she asked quietly, understanding the detective’s need for subtly right now. Whatever this was, they couldn’t be overheard.

Lexa nodded. “We have a suspect, but he’s too powerful to risk bringing in now, so I’m posing as the type of person he’d likely try and take.”

“You’re making yourself a target to get raped and left for dead?” she asked incredulously, refusing to believe what she was hearing. There had to be another way or was this man really such a threat that this was the only way to prove it was him.

Rubbing the back of her neck awkwardly, Lexa grimaced at the description. “Well, when you put it like that, yeah, basically.”

“That’s insane.”

Lexa took a step closer, brows knitting together as she searched Clarke’s eyes with obvious concern. “Why are you so worried? I’ll be fine.”

It was probably stupid. Lexa was a detective, she could defend herself, and probably had people watching her back if things got out of hand. Still, alarm bells were going off in her head at the mere thought of what might be done to her.

“I just don’t want to see you get hurt,” she answered honestly, already feeling red burn her cheeks.

Lexa smirked as understanding seemed to dawn in her eyes. “Well, it’s a good thing I know a great doctor then, isn’t it?”

“Flattery won’t work on me,” Clarke said, feeling flattered anyway. But the tightness in her chest eased at the confidence Lexa flaunted, even if she knew it was a deliberate attempt to try and stop her from panicking.

“Right,” said the other woman, raising an eyebrow. “Then why are you blushing?”

At that, Clarke had to duck her head, despite the smile growing on her lips. She looked up to find Lexa’s eyes had softened, while her smirk had changed to something kinder, like she was just noticing Clarke for the first time.

But then she blinked, clearing her throat while she glanced down at her watch. “Come on, we’ve been in here too long.”

“What’s the plan?” asked Clarke immediately.

Lexa grinned. “Put on a show.”

They left, Clarke keeping close to Lexa’s side, as she searched the room for Octavia. Finding her chatting to a small group of other women, she nudged Lexa. The other woman followed her gaze, then started to make her way over.

It was then that Clarke realised she still had no idea who the target actually was, only that he was powerful and most likely very dangerous, and she couldn’t exactly as now.

A moment later, she had her question answered by Lexa very deliberately stumbling into the man they were passing by, clutching his suit to stay upright. Charles Pike took it in his stride, helping Lexa to steady herself, but Clarke nearly took a step back as she realised what was going on.

“Oh my gosh, I am such a cluts!” said Lexa, using that high-pitched tone like before. She placed a hand over her heart as she started gushing apologies.

Pike shook it off, telling her it was fine, before eyeing her up and down. “What’s your name?”

Lexa blushed, glancing down and avoiding eye contact. “Libby. I’ve never been to Polis before, you know? I don’t know anyone here and it’s all so big.”

If Clarke hadn’t been prepared for it, her jaw might have dropped again. The detective had managed to completely disarm Pike in a matter of seconds, the businessman practically lightening up like a Christmas tree as if Lexa had managed to hit all the right buzzwords.

Then again, she supposed that was whole idea of undercover. Be what the target wanted you to be.

“Well Libby, I might be able to help you get to know some people,” he said smoothly.

“Really?” asked Lexa eagerly, so wide-eyed and hopeful it was making Clarke feel a little bit nauseous. She could almost imagine this playing out, but instead of a trained detective, it was a scared young woman just looking to get by in a big new city.

“I know some friends.” Pike pulled a business card out of his pocket. “Here, give me a call and I’ll set you up with them.”

Lexa’s blush deepened. “I’ll call,” she said straight away, then started thanking Pike profusely.

“There’s no need,” replied Pike, holding his hands up to get some space between them. “I look forward to your call.”

He turned and made his way over to a different group, while Lexa carefully put the card away, not once dropping her façade. Clarke wanted to ask what happened next, but Lexa was already looking towards Octavia in question.

Catching on, Clarke led them over. She would have time for that later “Octavia, this is…”

“Libby,” greeted Lexa, dropping some of her earlier enthusiasm.

Octavia looked confused. “I’ve seen you before at the firehouse.”

“How about we go?” intervened Clarke, knowing that Octavia wouldn’t give up until she got an answer Lexa couldn’t afford to give right now, but also would understand her best friend’s need to get out.

“Sure,” she said, immediately grabbing her purse and bidding the person she was talking to goodbye.

When they were safely outside, standing by Octavia’s car, Clarke finally felt like she could breathe easy. Taking in fresh lungfuls of crisp night air to ease her racing mind as tried to process all that had just happened.

Placing her hands on her hips, Octavia rounded on them both. “Spill.”

“I’m a detective for PCPD, working an undercover case that Clarke’s been assisting me with,” answered Lexa.

“Oh,” said Octavia, then she seemed to come to some realisation as she added, “You’re right, Clarke, she is hot.”

Lexa raised an eyebrow in Clarke’s direction, but she was too busy feeling mortified to meet her eyes. Thankfully, Lexa’s sensed her embarrassment and didn’t say anything.

Instead, she made to leave. “I have work to do, but it was nice seeing you again Clarke, despite the circumstances.

“Wait,” she called, scrambling to grab a pen and a piece of paper from the clutter inside Octavia’s car. When she had both items, she quickly scribbled her number down. “Here, text me when something happens with the case.”

Taking it, Lexa stared at her for a moment in silent thought. Then she smiled softly, causing that familiar flutter in her stomach and she knew she had to accept what it meant.

“Sure, Clarke. Stay safe.” She waved as she left, leaving Clarke to watch her walk down the street with a growing sense of anticipation. Something big was about to happen, and she had developed a crush on the person right in the middle of it all.

Octavia sighed. “Damn Clarke, you sure know how to pick them.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took longer than I'd anticipated to build up, but things are about to get a little bit more interesting ;)


End file.
